


Humans: Challenges & Requests

by Be_the_Spark



Category: humans - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Leotilda, Shorts, collection, flax, karpet - Freeform, nistrid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:04:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15346530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Be_the_Spark/pseuds/Be_the_Spark
Summary: A beginning compilation of ficlets and scenes I posted on tumblr.Included:LEOTILDALeo and Mattie and a good reason to have a more private space.NISTRID1.Christmastime! Just a quick scene involving Niska, Astrid, and a reluctant cake.2. With Niska's coaching, Astrid could wipe the floor with Agent 007.FLAXMax is trying to bring order to the railyard...can Flash undo all his dull work?KARPETKaren was driving away from the authorities when Pete got shot. Now all she has lying around to help him is his cigarette lighter and a fountain pen.





	Humans: Challenges & Requests

 

**LEO & MATTIE**

 

Leo was gradually becoming a Hawkins. Not that he didn’t like it - he’d been harboring a deep rooted envy for their “normal family” schtick since his first stay with them three years ago. But he had to remind himself this was a temporary situation. He had to get out at some point and figure out how to be a functioning, legally dead person. He was too old to be adopted, after all. He wasn’t Sam.

The Synth child was playing hide and seek with Sophie Hawkins. Now him, Joe and Laura could somehow adopt. Already Sam and Sophie were practically siblings.

Leo didn’t have that bond with a Hawkins. He already had sisters, so he definitely knew he could never feel that way about Mattie. He’d never felt about anyone the way he did about Mattie.

The door to her room was slightly ajar as he roamed upstairs. Unlike his previous experiences in the Hawkins household, he’d actually been inside Mattie’s room this round. He liked it in there; it was quiet and charmingly cluttered. It was a good place to think.

He pushed the door open, stepped in - then stepped out.

“Sorry,” he said in a sudden wash of awkwardness. A topless Mattie turned around to see him, then stepped in aimlessly wild turns about the room with her arms across her chest.

“Hold on,” she said brusquely, picking up a shirt and covering herself loosely. It was one of his, which inspired the quirk of a smile.

Mattie tilted her head in the direction of the door, and Leo shut himself in. It was only afterwards that he was unsure whether he shouldnt’ve gone the other way.

“God,” she whispered. “That could’ve been Sam, or Soph.”

Leo laughed ruefully. “Last I saw, Sophie was hiding in the laundry basket.”

Mattie wrinkled her nose at the thought. Then she looked down at the clothing she had pinned to her torso. “Toby’s.”

“I was wearing it yesterday,” Leo explained hastily as she dropped it. They both reached down to pick it back up, his hand catching hers on impulse. She rose, very slowly, and the breath in his lungs left within seconds. He stood, somehow closer to her than before, and with a careful set of fingers combed a loose lock of her dark brown curls back behind her ear. Once, this feeling in him was unfathomable, and now it was nothing new. But it struck him with awe every time.

Seizing an opportunity, Mattie reached her face to his so he could kiss her. But it wasn’t enough to taste her, he wanted to touch her. His hand moved from her ear to her neck, then her porcelain shoulder.

She was a bit quicker than him, cradling half his face with one hand as her mouth opened and closed over his. While he was responding, Mattie brought him in closer with her other hand around his ribs. With a lift of her fingers, another one of Toby’s shirts hit the floor.

Their bodies pressed in, the top halves all bare flesh and curves, the other halves on their way to getting there, they took their time enjoying their senses, the sensations they gave one another.

Mattie’s skin was flushed and he was feeling very warm as well.

Then her kisses drifted from his lips to his ear, whispering a desire that needed no words.

_“MATTIE?”_

Sophie’s voice entered the room with a bang of the door. Leo and Mattie launched apart. Turning their heads only, they saw Mattie’s little sister standing with wide eyes watching them. She blinked at the sight of her sister and houseguest shirtless together.

“Sam’s not hiding in here is he?” she asked.

“Um,” said Mattie, sounding confused. “No, haven’t seen him?”

As Sophie pouted and walked away, her sister called, “Hey don’t tell Mum, kay?”

“Won’t have to,” the youngest Hawkins said unruffled. “She’s not as stupid as you guys.”

They exchanged a mortified glance before the tension gave way to laughter. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he grinned shaking his head.

“Everyone’s stupid in the mind of a -.” began Mattie, before another voice cut in.

“Leo, do you know how many unsuccessful attempts Sophie must make before I am the winner of hide-and-seek?”

Jumping once again, they turned to see Sam crawling out from under Mattie’s bed.

Recovering, Leo said to him, “How about you don’t say a word of what’s been going on in this room and we’ll tell Sophie it’s your turn to seek?”

“Very well!” chimed Sam. “But if Toby is giving you his shirts, Sophie is aware of your relationship with Mattie and Laura is not stupid…who is there left to tell?”

 

**NISKA & ASTRID**

 

**story 1**

 

_“T’was the week before Christmas, and all through the house…_

_Niska was stirring, batter all over her blouse.”_

The Synth’s head turned at Astrid Shaeffer’s gleeful rhymes. “That’s not funny,” she said, although she wasn’t ready to react any more harshly than that. Astrid had a unique ability to occasionally act annoying without it bothering Niska at all. Lacking patience as a virtue, this was the closest she took to being a sign that they were an ideal match. Because otherwise, a couple consisting of one woman who couldn’t cook and another who couldn’t eat shouldn’t have been nominated to bring the dessert for the Elster family’s holiday gathering.

Then again, Niska couldn’t understand why this had to happen at all. “It’s only you, Leo, and possibly Mattie Hawkins who will be coming to eat this catastrophe you started,” she pointed out. She didn’t really mind correcting a cake that had refused to set under Astrid’s watch, but it was a bit joyless to do so while being teased.

Beguiling even while flour-specked, Astrid shook her head. “And you’re sure neither of them could have done this instead?”

Niska poured the batter into the cake pan for the second time and set the mixing bowl aside with contempt. “Mattie knows how to crack an egg, that’s about all I know. Leo is a mid-twenties male who’ll eat anything you put in front of him because if he didn’t he’d starve from his nonexistent culinary skills.”

This made Astrid laugh and draw nearer to her. “In my family,” she said, “I am the favorite chef.”

Niska scoffed. “You’ve said that before to me, I thought you weren’t serious.”

Astrid smiled wide. “I am always serious,” she said, kissing Niska on the nose. Then she bit her lip, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. “Sugar,” she said at last, while Niska attempted to hold back a humanlike giggle.

 

**story 2**

 

Astrid stared at the dark screen, its backlight pulsating as the front filled with blinking, small white code. Her blood running raw on the remaining caffeine from ten cups of coffee, she put a hand to her open mouth.

“ _Um Gottes willen_ ,” she said through her fingers. Then she stretched her thumbs and went back to work. A lot of the code work, she was still learning. This was never her thing – she’d always assumed if she were to be arrested for wielding a laptop someday, it would be for using Photoshop to replace every world leader with a picture of Wonder Woman.

Astrid didn’t even know how to use Photoshop.

A chat window popped up in the corner.

_are you in the network yet?_

She rolled her eyes. Of course she was in the network, Niska would have known if she wasn’t. Then again, the idea of Niska depending on her to hack into a city-run control tower without any doubts would win today’s Idiot Prize.

Astrid typed,  _i’m in. if this doesn’t work, do you want to see a film?_

Niska didn’t answer back. Putting herself to task, Astrid’s heartbeat jumped in time with the keys she was hitting. Just before she set a timer for a system override, a message appeared in the window underneath the others.

_remember to set the shutdown to thirty seconds. and delete this chat._  

It took a long way to irritate Astrid, but Niska was en route there on a rocket ship. She replied,  _yes mother,_ and immediately deleted the chat window. Perhaps that wasn’t the best idea, though. Niska was out there, ready to tell her if she was stepping in the wrong direction. And now she couldn’t reach her.

Astrid cursed in German for the hundredth time that night, and entered her overriding command. Then she looked out her window. A field of multicolored lights, stretching like the glittering stars of the Milky Way all the way out to the Thames, began to blink. It was out of sync, but for someone who knew Morse code, it spelled  _love you_ perfectly.

Astrid did know Morse code. She’d always wanted to be a spy. Everything that was sexy to her was something a spy could do. And when the lights resumed their stability, her phone rang. “What film did you want to see?” asked Niska, her voice husky.

Astrid shook her head, ready to laugh. “Actually…can you show me how to use Photoshop?”

 

**MAX & FLASH**

  

The sun was blurry against the pastel blue canvas. Flash paused, perplexed over her next move. Then, as though possessed by Monet himself, the slim wet paint brush poised between her fingers swept orange streaks over the yellow blob back and forth.

Hearing the scratching of the bristles, Max stepped into her space, amusement playing in his eyes. “That dandelion looks lonely in the sky.”

Flash raised her eyebrows in a coy challenge. “I hope the Synths that will stay in this room are as tired of perfect artwork as I am.”

Max strode toward her and tipped his forehead lightly against hers. “They are all very fortunate to have their rooms bear your creative efforts,” he told her with a smile.

Flash smiled. It wasn’t just her efforts. She and Max had made the rail yard together. He’d handled the practical (boring) applications, the charging stations and repairing equipment.

Meanwhile, Flash had made it her mission to fill the room with flowers and rainbows.

“Kittens,” she said suddenly, her mind working adjacently to Max’s. “We should have a cat here!”

Max did not follow. “Whatever for?”

Flash grinned. “For life.”

They spent the day welcoming the new Synths; they were pouring in like beans out of a hackey sack. One of them was named Anatole, a pleasant yet rather dull conversationalist. The next one, a resourceful-looking one called Tristan, was immediately sent back out by Flash with a mission. At some point, she switched on the radio so that everyone would walk in with the lyrics singing the welcoming melody of “Ho Hey” by the Lumineers.

_So show me family_  
_All the blood that I will bleed_  
_I don’t know where I belong_  
_I don’t know where I went wrong_  
_But I can write a song_

Then Max approached her in the crowd, less amused this time. And though she hoped he was going to pull her aside for a dance, she knew it was likely the other reason.

In the privacy of their space, Max asked grimly, “Mia will be returning soon from a human relations meeting. What have you done with all of her artwork?”

Despite her twinge of guilt, Flash shrugged. “I put it Leo’s recovery ward.” Before he could belatedly object, she said emphatically, “Mia’s art is beautiful and flawless, Max. If we are to integrate with humans, we must get used to seeing imperfection on our walls.”

Max looked down. Finally he told her, “I am not certain of the sense this makes on a logical level, but I would hardly label anything about you as an imperfection.”

“Meow!”

Flash and Max looked up suddenly to see a Synth holding a mass of creamy orange fur.

Max blinked, startled. “What is this?”

Flash stepped forward, a merry laugh sounding in her head.

“This is Tristan,” she said.

The Synth bowed his head respectfully. “I assume I have passed my test of admission?”

Before Max could frown at the confusing statement, Flash said suddenly, “Yes, Max. I explained to Tristan that when humans gather for communal purposes, they will often bring an offering of food or other gifts. And Tristan has brought us a cat.”

Max stared at her, but she wasn’t worried. He’d catch up.

Once Tristan had gone to charge, Flash turned to Max with an innocent smile. Her heart was full at that moment, and Max needed to feel that. “What shall we call him?” she asked, the cat rumbling softly in her arms.

“Trouble,” answered Max at last, a returning smile also spreading on his face. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

They were going to live. It would involve mistakes and chaos and things that seemed like both but were neither. Flash held Trouble out for Max to stroke, and kissed the orange fluffball on the head.

 

**KAREN & PETE **

 

“Why are you driving off the road?”

Karen ignored Pete’s question and continued to roll through a field of tall dry grass. Sunset’s light was winking in the mirrors of her car, but Karen couldn’t mind the time of day when Pete was bleeding. It may have been nothing serious, or it could have been fatal – all that she knew was she couldn’t check properly from behind the wheel.

“K?” Pete groaned from the passenger’s seat.

“Save your strength,” she said at last, shading the intensity in her voice with calm precision. She couldn’t really blame him for asking, though, especially when she turned in the direction of the forest. “If they can’t find us, they can’t shoot at you again.”

Pete’s chuckle sounded like a painful grunt. “That would be nice.”

Once they were surrounded by trees bolting up towards the heavens, Karen switched off the engine and went around to the other side of the car to inspect Pete’s wound. Through the shoulder; it wasn’t lethal but it could get infected and become so.

“How’s it look?” asked Pete, bending down in his seat with his button-down shirt halfway removed.

What to say? That they needed some kind of medical kit to dress the wound, never mind anything for the bullet that had caused it in the first place?

_Wrong,_ she thought. Karen was the bullet; she had caused this herself.

Regardless, she had to make do with damage control. She opened her own bag first – a compact, practical box with a handle, really. Even Pete thought it was ugly. He was watching as she removed an instrument from it. But when she fished his cigarette lighter out from the compartment under the dashboard, he could no longer withhold comment.

“Do I want to know what you’re holding up a lighter and a fountain pen for?”

Karen eyed him grimly. “Probably not,” she said, testing the tip of the pen. It was strong, it would hold…She flicked the lighter under it, letting a flame spark to life and envelop the tip of the pen.

She turned to Pete. “I am sorry,” she said.

He shook his head. “I trust you,” he told her, his tone emphatic as it always when she doubted herself.

“It’s my fault,” continued Karen, heavy-hearted as the last remnants of day sank with the sun. She couldn’t bear to hurt him, but she had very little time for other options.

Pete grimaced. “It’s not though, is it? You never made a consciousness code that awoke other Synthetics. You’re not the reason every officer in England is after you, love.”

The drop of a tear told Karen’s conscience otherwise. “If I hadn’t helped activate the code in the first place, Niska never would have been able to take off and use it.”

With a sigh, Pete decided, “Well, you were trying to do what felt right. You always have. So if removing a bullet with what you’ve got feels right to you, best get on with it, K.”

He turned to make the wound more accessible, but as she handed him an unopened package of cleaning cloth as a makeshift biting strip, he added, “You’ll still love me after I scream like I’m Taylor Swift in an opera?”

Karen allowed a terse smile. “I’ll even love you after vomit on my bag.”

“God I hate that bag.”

“I know.” One swift strike of her arm later, Karen knocked Pete’s head into the car door. And so, without the aid of daylight or painkillers, Karen Voss successfully removed a bullet with a fountain pen. When Pete woke hours later, the first thing he mumbled was, “You’re a boss, Voss.” Then he passed out once more, as Karen drove through a forest with a sunrise splashing in her rearview mirror, wry affection played on her lips.

 


End file.
